The Unfinished Rug
by writertobe411
Summary: This story is about a girl and her friendship with a new girl throughout a very difficult time in her life. The title refers to the craft that she wants to make her friend for being there for her. Hope you like it!
1. Gabbi learns the news

The Unfinished Rug

When I grow up, I want to be a lawyer. That is, if I'm ever able to. I've been living my life in anticipation, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Have you ever had that feeling, the feeling that something bad is going to happen, but you just don't know when?

I've had that feeling almost my entire life. For 8 years now, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For 8 years, I haven't known if I'm going to live to see the next day. I haven't known if I'll make it through another season of my favorite television show, I haven't known whether or not I'll die before I can graduate middle school. After living for 8 years wondering when I'm going to die, I've stopped hoping for a treatment, and have started to live my life to the fullest every day that I manage to survive.

Ever since I was five, I've known that I'm going to die. More importantly, I've known that I'm going to die before everyone else my age will. When I was five, I was diagnosed with leukemia. Luckily, my doctors have always been honest with me. I've always been mature for my age, so when a five-year-old asked them when she was going to die, the doctors were quite appalled. Since they must stick with their honesty rule, they told me that I was going to die 'eventually.' Even at that young of an age I knew that 'eventually' for me has basically been 'soon.'

So far, I've made it past the odds. Thanks to the new medical advances and my will to live, I've been able to make it through the seventh grade. Ten years ago, a child with leukemia was only expected to live until about second grade! And better yet, my life has almost been normal. I'm not quite sure what normal is, but compared to other teenage girls, I have almost the same problems.

Sure, they don't have to worry about spinal taps and bone marrow aspirations, but I worry about boys and my image too! Actually, I think I have it easier than them as far as the looks department, because I'm bone thin and I can style my hairdo off of my head. Let me explain … because of all of the chemotherapy and medications that I take, my hair has fallen out. Luckily, my parents bought me a wig. It looks pretty real; people who don't know me always compliment me on my hair. In the morning, while getting ready for school, I can easily turn the wig around and make it how I want it to look, even in the back! Sure, it's not as good as real hair, but I'm pretty lucky.

Many people think I worry too much about my looks, but I don't think I do. Most girls my age have a problem with their appearances; most of them think that they are ugly. After spending months in a hospital, I know what ugly really is. It's when your body has retained so much fluid that your face looks like a balloon. It's when you can't move your joints because you've been laying in bed so long. It's when a person walks into the room and grimaces at the sight of your horrendous body. Most people think that ugly is just having a bad hair day, but it's much, much more than that. After seeing and being everything that is truly ugly, I don't believe that spending 15 minutes on your hair is obsessive.

From the moment of my diagnosis, I've become a positive thinker, as well as a pretty good craftsperson. During every hospital stay, I've always had a craft on my bedside table. I've given all of my nurses and doctors presents for their hard work and dedication to find a cure. My first hospital stay, it was finger painting. Then it was finger knitting. Recently, it's been crocheting, knitting, and latch hooking. When classmates walk into my room, they are usually blown away by the amount of craft materials, as well as crafts, that are packed inside my tiny bedroom. I have everything from beading to sketchbooks to embroidery. I've embroidered my own pants and tops for ages.

Thanks to these skills, I've been able to make a few acquaintances. My parents think it's nice when I bring a little 'play mate' over after school to work on homework, but most of the time, the kids come because they've heard about my awesome crafts and want to learn how to fix their mutated scarf that they were going to make their mother for her birthday. Most of the time, this doesn't bother me, but I've always hoped and dreamed about having a friend that really cares about me, a friend that would give anything to keep me alive, give anything to make the pain go away.

Yesterday was the official first day of eighth grade, but today was my first day. I had to skip the first day because of a spinal tap and chemotherapy appointment. I could have gone to school yesterday, but all of the excitement would have been way too much for me to handle after chemotherapy and a spinal tap. I mean, it's not like I don't know where my classes are. Because of my leukemia, I always get my schedule for the next year on the last day of school. This way, I know my classes if I need to get homework from someone due to a hospital visit or something. It's very easy, and I also usually walk my classes a couple of days before school starts so I know what to take to which class. I know that it might seem like I'm getting special treatment because of my leukemia, but it's really necessary because I don't know when I'm going to be in the hospital.

Even though I missed yesterday, most students were sincerely glad to have me back in school. I'm not saying that they are my friends, but I'm certainly glad that they care enough about me to ask how I'm doing and how my summer was. For most kids, this would just be something normal, but I'm not used to getting a lot of attention from my fellow peers. There is a seemingly nice girl that is in almost all of my classes. Her locker is even next to mine! I'm not sure if we'll ever be friends, because whenever I try and befriend a new girl, they are always freaked out about my leukemia, and end up throwing our friendship in the trash. Sometimes people act like leukemia is contagious. Stupidity sure seems like it is … contagious I mean.

The one thing I hate about school is how everyone treats me. They aren't mean or anything, they are all very nice. But the teachers always give me special treatment, and the kids know to be nice to be because everyone knows that I might not be around for too much longer. I don't mind that they know that I have leukemia, but I just hate the special treatment that I always get. I understand the different tests and quizzes from my teachers, but when they start treating me like a fragile China doll, that's when I become frustrated.

Throughout my whole life, I've been treated like a doll that has many microscopic cracks over their whole body. My doctors make sure that my whole room is germ-free, and my parents are obsessed about cleaning every day. The school nurse even has extended invitations to stay inside from recess. Everyone has my 'best interests' in mind, but I k know more about what I need than anyone else does.

I know now that I need a friend. Not just one of the fake friends that I've had in the past, but a real friend. I've decided to be friends with the new girl. Since she's new, I can almost start on a blank slate. She doesn't know anything about my past, and I hope that we can learn about the future together.

It worked! The new girl is actually nicer than she looks. I'm not sure how that is even possible, but somehow it is. I learned during homeroom that her name is Lisa and she just moved here from South Carolina. When we first talked, it was just like in kindergarten. You know how in kindergarten, you wouldn't even know a kid, but within 10 seconds, you were playing with each other like you were best friends? That's just how Lisa and I are.

As usual, along with the good news, there's the bad news too. This news is sure to test my new friendship, just like it always does. My doctor called today. She didn't sound happy. She wanted to meet with my family and me at the hospital. She said to pack my bags.


	2. Lisa's There

My mom, dad, sister and I all rushed to pack my duffel bags that hadn't been used in over three months. I had trouble deciding which craft to bring, and eventually decided on latch hooking. Since I was pretty stressed, I knew that tugging on tiny pieces of yarn would help calm me down. Anyway, I have recently gotten a latch hook rug that is a picture of a bear holding a heart. I want to give this to Lisa when I'm done with it.

Dr. Welington ushered all four of us into her office and shut the door. She has been my doctor throughout my whole leukemia experience. She's practically part of our family. I've learned that even family members have bad news. This time, it's very bad news. She says that the leukemia is back. I've been dreading those four words ever since I was able to receive remission three months ago. Now I know why I needed to pack my bags. I'm glad I brought a large rug.

The first thing I do in the hospital, after unpacking, is call Lisa. She deserves to know. Even though we've only just become friends, it feels like we've been friends forever. Throughout my phone conversation, I kept dreading the words "I guess I'll see you at school." Every other friend that I've had has said that to me when I'm hospitalized. Luckily, those words never were mentioned over the phone. Instead, the conversation went pretty well.

"Hey Lisa, how are you?"

"I'm pretty good Gabbi, how are you? I didn't recognize the Caller ID on my phone. Where are you?"

"I'm not that great. I'm in the hospital."

"Oh my gosh Gabbi! Are you okay? When are you coming home? What happened? Gabbi? Tell me!"

"I'm okay, well, right now I am. I'm not sure when I'm coming home, maybe a week, maybe a couple of months. Do you promise not to freak out when I tell you what happened?"

"I promise. I swear on my life that I won't freak out. We're friends, remember?"

"Okay … wow. I hoped that I'd never have to tell you this, but I've had a relapse."

"Lisa, are you there?"

"Wow. Wow. That's pretty big. But don't worry, I can get your homework and everything. I'll visit you every day! I'll even make you my famous chocolate chip cookies to make you feel better!"

"Thanks Lisa. You make things a lot better. Well, I have to go. The nurse is here to take me for some tests. Will I see you soon?"

"You bet Gabbi. Be brave, and remember I'm always here for you. Whatever you need, I'm willing to give it. I'll be there faster than a firefly being chased by a net."

Sometimes, Lisa just makes me laugh. I'm thankful for that, because it's easier to have blood drawn when you're thinking of your friend's funny phrases rather than what's going to happen in a week, or a month. But true to her word, Lisa was in my room when I got back from the tests. She really is a wonderful friend. I had better get going on that rug for her. She deserves a present for her good friendship.


	3. Uh Oh!

It's been a couple of weeks since I was hospitalized. I've been told that Lisa's been here every day right after school lets out. Dr. Welington says that I've been in and out of consciousness, but I can't remember anything. Right now, I'm running a fever. That's not good. My homework is piling up on my bedside table, and the rug is barely started. Whenever I'm awake, I'm too disoriented to work on anything. Most of the time, I'm sleeping. The doctors and nurses put so many different drugs in me, I'm sure I wouldn't be legal to drive, even if I did have my license.

Since I've woken up from my deep sleep, a ton of changes have been occurring in my room. Everything from people garbing up (the nasty blue plastic robes and masks that cover your entire body) to a crash cart (in case my heart stops). It's a bit freaky to think that my heart could just stop, but I guess it's just to be on the safe side. Like my dad always says, it's better to be safe than sorry. I only hope that they don't need to use it.

Another week has passed. Most of the time, I was told, that I was unconscious. My fever has been running even higher, and the doctors thought it was necessary to move me to the Intensive Care Unit. It's a lot different here than from the rest of the hospital. Everything is white and spotless. Sometimes, I think that I'm dreaming when I'm awake, and sometimes I think that I'm awake when I'm dreaming. My arms and legs are beginning to retain fluids. The beautiful swan is once again an ugly duckling.


	4. Lisa's unfinshed rug

From what the nurses tell me, Lisa was devastated that she couldn't see me anymore. Even if she only comes and watches me sleep, I think she was able to see a part of me that scares so many other people. When I'm awake, I have the never-ending task of opening all of the cards and letters I receive from the kids and teachers at school. Most of them are just Hallmark cards saying "hope you feel better," but I can always pick out the ones from my old friends, and the basketball players (the teddy bear holding a basketball is a slight clue). I've even gotten a couple of teddy bears and crafts from the kids who somewhat knew me. It's all sweet of them, but all I want is to be back in the regular wing of the hospital, or even better yet, home.

Dr. Welington came and saw me today while I was awake. She looks tired. I'm sure she's worried about me, because my health is steadily declining. I know that she doesn't want me to know that, but I'm able to read my medical charts. Based on my declining health, eighth grade graduation looks like a goner. I've been in this hospital for almost three months now. This is one of my longest hospital stays that I can remember. The sleeping drugs help, but it still gets lonely during the night when I pretend to be asleep.

Another two weeks later, and I'm finally back I've been unconscious for the last two weeks, and the doctors have been working around the clock to make me better. They've moved me down to the regular hospital wing, which is very strange. I don't remember them moving me. Lisa comes and sits with me almost all day. It's nearing the end of their winter vacation, and Lisa's made sure her parents knew how much I meant to her. Apparently, her family went skiing in New York, but Lisa was able to talk her parents into letting her stay at my house. It must be difficult for her to sleep in my room, just thinking about me in the hospital.

I can feel it, I'm nearing the end. Lisa is spending all day with me. She wants to stay nights, but her parents are making her go back to my house to sleep. I don't want to give up hope, but there is no way the doctors can find a cure this late in the game. I'm so tired; I just want to give up. I refuse to give up, but the medicines are making me weary. I wait until Lisa is with me to tell her the news.

"Lisa, I can't make it. I need to go."

"Gabbi? No. Gabbi! You can't! You need to graduate! You need to be with me! I need you Gabbi!"

"Lisa, it will be easier this way. You can make new friends. You don't need a sick friend. I'm just stopping you. You need to go out and live your life to the fullest."

"No. Gabbi! I do need you. You've taught me more than anyone else I've met. You're my role model. I'm living my life to the fullest. I need you and you need me. We're going to be friends forever."

"Forever might not be as far away as you think. I'm an ugly duckling. I need to turn into a beautiful swan and fly to heaven."

"No, Gabbi. You're already a beautiful swan. We need you here. I need you here, your parents need you here. Life won't be the same without you. Gabbi? Don't leave."

"Lisa. Take the rug, it's yours. I was going to make it for you before my sickness got in the way. My sickness always gets in the way. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everything. I need to leave. Tell my parents I love them. Be strong Lisa, don't cry. I'll be watching you from heaven. I'll meet you there. Good bye Lisa, good luck. Remember me."

"Gabbi? No, Gabbi. We're always going to be together. We need each other. I don't care about your sickness. Stay here Gabbi. Gabbi?"

"Yes Lisa?"

"I'll never forget you Gabbi."


End file.
